Promises of Longevity
by TheGothWitch
Summary: "Let me show you how a kiss should taste; Trust me, I won't give your heart away. Why're you running, running, When you've got it right here?" - Daisy (Zedd)


Mae knew one thing about herself: she was the record-holder in Possum Springs for bad decisions. It cost her a lot in her life. It cost her grades after freshman year in high school, her reputation among nearly every adult in her neighborhood, and a multitude of days that were instead spent in jail. If every bad decision a person made was suddenly converted into money, Mae just might become the richest woman on the planet for a while. Obviously, given her decision-making skills, the money would all be gone within, like, a week, but that didn't stop her from wishing.

In retrospect, one of the biggest things her bad judgment had cost her was her friendship with Bea. It was just a bummer to her at the time—which was an awful underestimation of how much had really gone wrong. Their friendship back then was so cliche, yet that only made any memory of it hit Mae with an aching nostalgia. They made their promise never to leave each other's side; that they'd be there when the other needed them most. God, they even made friendship bracelets for each other that spelled "MaeBea" when they held their wrists up next to each other.

It was such a lame thing to do, but even after they had slowly fallen out of their friendship, Mae kept her half of the bracelet in a little box next to her bed, hoping that one day they'd fall back into it. That day came a little too late. The box sat in her room gathering dust and she was absolutely sure that Bea had long since gotten rid of hers. She didn't know why she had this habit of desperately holding onto things she knew would only fade with time. Life to her was a faulty rollercoaster and she had to cling onto _something_ for dear life, but as her bad decision-making mandated, she always seemed to grab the one bar that would harm her most.

These memories danced around the dark void of her mind like some taunting ballet, and she could almost feel them slowly gliding away from her. Maybe if she just . . . reached out, maybe she'd be able to catch them and go back to when things were looking up. She could almost hear Bea's voice calling out to her as she continued to grab at the dwindling images, just getting further and further away as she tried to stretch her arm more and more to keep up, and–

" _Mae!"_

The abruptness of that was enough to send her reeling out of whatever trance she was in. She was still holding her arm out as she saw the last of those dim shapes fade into the steady rhythm of the passing streetlights, and slowly she set her arm back down. A bit dazed, she looked around, quickly recalling what she had been doing. Big surprise, it was the result of another bad decision she made on the spur of loneliness she felt after finding out Bea was going out with a guy she met at the Ham Panther. All Mae wanted to do was find a way to suppress these newfound feelings that had started bubbling up for her best friend after they spent that night together at the bridge, letting cars pass by as they looked out at the night sky.

And now, here she was, sitting in the passenger seat as she was being driven to a date she had nothing but a lingering hope of success for—by the very person she wanted to suppress her feelings for. She was afraid that looking directly at her would betray those feelings, so she threw a sideways glance to acknowledge she had been called. "Yeah?"

"Okay, good," Bea muttered, turning the wheel as she took the exit off the highway. "You're not lost in la la land. We're almost there, so, like, you should probably get ready to meet up with that 'perfect boyfriend' you haven't shut up about for the past two days. I really can't believe I drove you up to some mountainside clubhouse for this. . . ."

"Oh yeah," Mae said, looking away and out her window. Truthfully, this "perfect boyfriend" business was pretty much all a lie she made up to give off that image that she was doing just fine without Bea. Look where that got her. They were driving toward another one of these parties (not a Jackie party, fortunately) at a worn-down clubhouse filled with people who were either unbelievably drunk or just awful dancers.

She could already see the fluctuating, purple lights coming from the entrance of one of the buildings along the road. She could feel the apprehension building up in her chest as Bea drove closer by. This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea . . . she never should have done this. She was an effing idiot. Nothing good is going to come out of this. For all she knew this guy could be the biggest douchebag on the planet and she couldn't find out because they only ever had one or two dates after they met.

As Bea pulled into the crowded parking lot and found a spot, Mae considered just telling her to turn back. Hell, she almost did, but she realised just how deep she is in this hole. It was too late to turn back now, and she remembered why she was here in the first place when she looked up at the crocodile sitting in the driver's seat and got hit with that pang of longing. If only a slim chance, and if only for a while, this night could help her forget about that rising jealousy that made her want to destroy something with a baseball bat.

"We're here." Bea turned off the engine and opened the door as she stepped out. Without a word, Mae did the same on her side of the car and was about to begin heading toward the entrance, but she paused when she saw that Bea wasn't following. She turned and saw her standing by the hood of her red sedan, lighting a cigarette. She looked at Mae and quirked a brow.

"What? Go ahead to the party," she said, taking a drag of her freshly lit cigarette and slowly exhaling that smoke, which seemed to glow a faint orange from the street lights back on the road. "I'll follow you later. Don't drink anything alcoholic."

"No, I . . . I think I'll wait here." Bea shrugged in response, and Mae sat on the hood next to her, wrinkling her nose a little at the repugnant smell of cigarette smoke. She never cared much for the habit—it wasn't her decision to make and she knew the poor girl needed something to keep the stress down. Lately, though, Mae found herself wishing the smoking would stop sometimes. Knowing what it did to people made her worried. It'd make her sound like a cheesy anti-smoking ad or a health teacher, but she didn't want to lose her. A lot's been lost as is. She wasn't sure if she could handle losing someone like her.

Eventually Bea decided to sit down as well, and for a while the two sat in silence, Bea smoking her cigarette and Mae staring off somewhere. The only sounds were the occasional passing by of a car behind them, or the dull, almost silent thumping from the party. Her aimless gaze fell onto the girl sitting next to her. She didn't mind this: just the two of them sitting alone together peacefully. She sort of wanted to bring up something to talk about. She liked talking to her.

"So, uh," she started tentatively, and Bea looked at her to show she was listening. "Things going good with your boyfriend?"

She froze, and Mae immediately knew it was a mistake to ask. It occurred to her that there hasn't been a single mention of this boyfriend for the past three days. Maybe she just thought the lack of mention was just her aloof nature, but if she mentioned meeting the guy, she'd definitely mention other things. She felt as if Bea would definitely get angry, but instead she looked at the ground and sighed.

"I dumped Kurt last Friday," she said quietly, after a long drag of her cigarette. "We were on a date at the barbecue place you and I found about a month ago. Everything else just seems like a blur now, but at some point I think I started getting, like, really personal with him. I jumped the gun on how much I could trust him and it was worst mistake I possibly could have made.

"He started saying some crap like how it was somehow partially _my_ fault that my life spiraled into hell after mom died. Like if I had only 'worked harder' in this piece-of-shit town then maybe I'd have the money to go to college, as if my dad wasn't somebody who existed. I don't know what I expected. He was a wealthier kid who was able to get into a good college and I expected him to be smarter than he actually was. I don't know why being a college kid is so important to me. You were right about that.

"I ended up telling him to just shut up about it. Apparently that really got him pissed. He started, like, calling me a bitch and saying that I did nothing but complain without ever doing anything. At that point I was just so done with his shit that I told him it was over and left. Mae, I'm not going to effing forget what he said to me before I walked out of that door."

Mae looked crestfallen. Bea had kept this to herself the whole time? If she had told her this earlier than she would have trash talked that trash bag into oblivion. Now, she just didn't know what to do but listen. "What was it?"

Bea shook her head slowly, and a tear made its way down her cheek. "'Not even a kiss goodbye, huh? Or were those reserved for your dreams after your mom kicked the bucket?'"

Whatever it was that Mae expected to be said, it definitely wasn't that. It almost looked ridiculous how wide-eyed she was now. "Holy shit, Bea, I—I didn't know. I'm so damn sorry."

Bea smiled faintly. "It's fine, Maeday. It was days ago. And I have you with me this time."

The two lapsed into silence again; Bea taking one last, shaky drag of her cigarette before finally she stood up, flicking the butt onto the ground and grinding it out underneath her boot. "Anyway, it's about time we head in. Are you coming or what?"

"Yeah, I'm coming." Mae hopped off the hood of the car, jogging a bit to be beside Bea. It was nice that she was able to talk about that with her, and that her being there was able to ease things a bit. She couldn't help but smile at the thought.

∅ — ❤︎ — ∅

The flashing lights and the disco ball were kind of disorienting upon first walking in, but Mae quickly adjusted. The first thing she tried to do was look around for her date, who said he'd be waiting on the dance floor somewhere. He knew she enjoyed the dancing the last party she was at . . . even if things went downhill after that one. It was a bit difficult to spot him—the constantly moving lights prevented her from seeing anyone's faces clearly, especially in such a large crowd.

She turned to ask Bea for help, but she was already walking off to the bar near the back. Guess she was on her own for this one. At least she knew where to go when everything else went wrong.

The next few scans over the dance floor didn't give any results, either. She couldn't clearly make out anyone there. She was ready to give up when she was suddenly grabbed by the arm by someone, and she squealed a little. She saw the familiar face of a bird, however, and calmed down a little. Didn't mean she was still a little angry.

"Seriously, Ram?!" Mae yelled over the loud club music, punching his arm lightly. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Ram laughed it off, offering his hand to Mae. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry! God, no need to get pissy. You were just late and I was looking for you. So are we dancing or not?"

Mae was pouting a little, but she took his hand. "Yeah, let's go."

So Ram, hand-in-hand with Mae, led her toward an unoccupied spot on the dance floor. It was making her nervous to do this; she was worried that she'd eff it up somehow. The only other times she's danced _with_ someone else was A: at prom with Cole, which everyone in her high school senior year knew ended horribly, and B: that one night at Bea's, when they were just drunk and messing around when life was down at its low points. So it was like, a 50/50 chance that this will go well. That's how it worked, right?

As they reached a good spot, the music of the current song was already beginning transition into the new song. The timing was pretty much perfect. They began with foot-tapping to the starting beat of the song, which was only a _little_ bit out-of-sync. Of course, as club songs went, it always seemed to have that dip where things seem to just go out of focus. . . .

Ram was looking at Mae with that dumb smile he had. She smiled back, if a little awkwardly. With the song's techno instruments seeming to come back into focus, they started taking simple steps of whatever dance they planned on doing. It didn't matter, really; right now Mae just wanted to lose herself and have a good time for once. God knows she deserves it.

For a while, it seemed to work. The two were laughing, dancing with each other. . . . The club lights were flashing on the dance floor and everyone let the beat of the music control their movements. It seemed that just for tonight, things were going to be okay.

The music faded out again, but what was strange was that everyone continued to dance as if the song was continuing the same way it had been. What was going on? Mae stopped, looking around, confused. Ram seemed to notice her stop, as his smile seemed to vanish. He mouth was moving, but no sound seemed to come out. This was starting to freak her out. Oh, she could hear things now. Whispering. Hissing. Some other, strange song comprising of nothing but static and beeping.

As she glanced over the dance floor again, the silhouettes of everyone dancing seemed to each break apart into triangles and squares that rapidly changed colours from purple, to blue, to red, and back to purple. Oh god, not again, not again.

Mae tried to find something to steady herself, but she had no idea what she was looking at. It was all just shapes. She tried to grab onto a rectangle, but it seemed to back away before falling onto the ground and splitting up into a pile of splintering shards. It was followed by faint yelling.

Someone grabbed onto her again. She didn't know who it was. She yelled for them to back off, and she began struggling when no response came, screaming for someone to help her. No one did.  
Eventually she was set down onto some sort of seat, by the feeling of it. A larger clump of shapes seemed to sit down opposite of her. Her head was spinning. She might throw up. For eff's sake, Mae Borowski, do _not_ throw up in this crowded party.

As she stared at the cluster of shapes in front of her, a thought just popped into her mind uninvited. How easy would it be to just split those shapes apart? They seemed loose enough already. Just one swipe and they'd all come crumbling. Haha, that would have been funny. . . .

∅ — ❤︎ — ∅

Bea set her drink down, scowling. She didn't know what was up with this bunch. Several people have already come up to her and offered her a drink, all of which she declined more than firmly. Guess it was something she'd have to deal with at any non-Jackie party, where the hosts all have no standards as to which people should be let in.

She was thinking of just asking the bartender for another iced tea and finding a place where she'd just be left alone. Before she could get the attention of the bartender again, there seemed to be a sudden commotion that erupted from the dance floor, followed by a faint screaming. Of course, she recognised that voice immediately. Something was definitely going wrong over there. If Mae had gotten into trouble, she had to get over there because she damn well could get herself hurt. Those noises didn't offer any reassurance.

She quickly left a tip for the bartender before getting up and almost running over to investigate. From there, she could see Mae at a table in front of who she assumed to be the boyfriend. Whatever his name was. He seriously looked pissed. Bea really needed to get over there before things got too out of hand.

. . . She was starting to think that she cared too much about her.

Bea was around fifteen feet from the table when a familiar voice called her name out. She stopped cold, dread crawling up her spine as she turned to face the owner of that voice. Even with the lights and the crowd, she instantly pinpointed that cocky wolf who bumped into her at the Ham Panther.

" _Kurt,_ " she said bitterly, completely unwilling to deal with this extra bullcrap. The wolf grinned as he leaned onto a nearby table, beer bottle in hand. When did he start looking like such a damn prick?

"If it ain't this . . . bbbbbbbbitch," he said, stifling a laugh. This guy was obviously drunk out of his mind. Bea just needed to end this conversation as quickly as possible before Kurt started trying to pull some shit.

"That's great, Kurt." Bea was just about to leave the scene, but she was suddenly accosted and pushed into a wall. Kurt had damn near tackled her and he was uncomfortably close. She tried to force him off, but he just had her pinned by the arms.

"Listen," he said lowly. His breath reeked of alcohol and he slurred over his words. "Things went . . . shit . . . a while ago. But like, y'knowwwwww. It was a while ago and I think it'd be nice of me to say sorry aaand. . . ."

He took one hand off and grabbed her near the hip, to which Bea was just about ready to punch his lights out. Was nobody paying attention to this?! With the one hand that was freed up, she tried to shove him off. "Get the hell off of me, Kurt. I swear to god if you don't back off I'm going to kick your ass."

"Really?" he said cockily. "You gonna be a stuck-up bitch again? I said sorry and you're not gonna do jaaack shit?" He pushed her up against the wall with some more force. "I think I deserve a little more than that."

A sudden noise from behind them caused a brief window of distraction. Kurt looked over, dazed; Bea saw that Mae had tripped over while trying to run for the door, looking visibly upset in how she was moving. That, of course, got her mad given that she wasn't able to diffuse the situation in time. Thanks to this creep who was staring in a drunken stupor.

Bea took that window of opportunity and kneed Kurt in the stomach. It must have hit in the right spot, because she knocked the wind out of him and caused him to collapse on the ground, heaving. Before long he had started vomiting on the floor, and everyone began to clear the area.

"Bitch," she muttered, straightening out her disheveled dress again. She turned to where she had seen Mae, but the feline had already gotten up. Her attention then turned to the door, and she noticed that it was still swinging closed. Cursing under her breath, she bolted for the door as well, practically bursting through it as she ran into the night in pursuit of her best friend.

There didn't seem to be any sign of Mae, wherever Bea looked. She could feel herself starting to panic at the thought of Mae possibly doing something stupid and getting hurt. Bea had let enough go wrong already; this was the last thing she wanted tonight. Knowing her, the best conclusion to make is that she would have ran off to some place overlooking the towns below.

She wasn't too far from a viewpoint—there seemed to be one right behind the clubhouse. This was a really odd spot on the mountain. Running over, she could barely make out the silhouetted ears and hair tuft from behind the bench. . . .

∅ — ❤︎ — ∅

Not even her most pessimistic thoughts could have warned her about how shit this night was going to be. This was an all-time low. Being out here now, staring out over the mountainside at the little lights dotting the surface below. . . . She realised now that she had never felt more alone. Not since college.

Every attempt she had made to get a boyfriend or girlfriend have obviously ended in failure. It was always her shitty personality or her stupid, dumb brain that cut off reality when she needed it most. Not to mention that her friends are slowly drifting away from her. Gregg and Angus were moving to Bright Harbour, Germ was never close to begin with, Lori's parents would probably never let Mae within a mile of her because of the Killer incident. And Bea, well. . . . She knew she'd eff that up at some point. She already did once.

A gentle, cool breeze blew over her fur, and she shivered as she brought her legs up on the bench and held her knees against her chest. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and her only thought is that it was okay. No one would be here to see her. No one else would be around to hear her break down over having nobody—and laugh at her, or yell at her.

". . . Mae?" came a faint voice from behind her. She didn't respond. She didn't want to. Maybe if she just ignored her, she would go away. Nobody deserved to be near her, anyway.

That little train of thought was interrupted when she felt someone sit down next to her. This time she couldn't really help but look, and of course—it was Bea. She kept silent at first.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Mae said quietly, with a pained smile.

"What is?" Bea asked, frowning.

"Last time it was me who had to go find you after you ran away. Now you had to go through the trouble to find me. And both times it was my fault."

Bea shifted in her seat at the memory of that party. How was she supposed to offer any reassurance here? It kinda _was_ her fault last time, and she had no clue what happened this time. She didn't want to assume.

"Mae, please," she said, then breathed in unsteadily. "I don't know what happened back there. I tried to come help but _Kurt_ of all people happened to be there and he _drunk out of his mind._ The creep tried to get all touchy with me, and—agh."

"Bea, oh my god, I. . . ."

"Look, that's not what this is about. Mae, what happened?"

She hesitated, looking up at the stars as if they would help her formulate whatever it is she wanted to say. The only things that looked back at her were the faint dots of light that composed the ornate night sky. Another breeze rolled by, causing Mae to shiver again. Tentatively, she nestled up against Bea's side and eased up a little when she felt her friend's arm wrap around her.

Mae, face half-resting against the ankh dress, began to mumble out what happened:

"I really thought it was gonna work out this time. We were out on the dance floor. Everything was going well, then, you know. It happened again."

"What did?" Bea asked the question, but she had the feeling she already knew.

"The shapes," Mae replied, as if to confirm her hunch. "I don't know. It was all shapes again, I couldn't see anything, I'm not sure how much I knocked over and my throat still felt sore from the screaming. I knew I should have let Ram know earlier because now I had to explain that to him, and of course he was already pissed about me ruining his fun so. . . .

"Like, I tried to explain it anyway. He ended up just getting even more angry that I didn't tell him before and he started calling me a 'loony effing schizo' and told me to get out of here before he'd call someone to get me out, so I just had to get away, and—and—"

She could feel the tears coming back in streams now as she dissolved into a mumbling mess. Any attempt to continue just came up in choked sobs.

"Shhh," Bea murmured, holding Mae a little closer. The latter broke down into sobs and buried her face against the dress. "It's okay. I've got you. Mae, this wasn't your fault at all. It's not something you could control and Ram can eff right off if he can't understand it. Don't beat yourself up for this."

Mae tried to laugh at that, and she muttered a sentence through the fabric:

"No one who knew that I was like this would love me."

Bea sighed. "Don't say that, Mae."

"You know it's true."

"No. It's not. Trust me."

"Yeah?" she said, pulling away to look Bea in the eyes, tears still running hot down her face. "How would I know that you're not just saying this because you feel bad for me? I know you think I'm dumb, but I'm at least smart enough to know that I'm just something to be pitied! I'm just some loser who messes everything up! A trash mammal! Ever since we stopped talking in seventh grade I've started to realise how much of a piece of shit I was turning into! Stop just trying to make me feel better because I already effing _know_ that nobody here would love me because—"

" _I love you, god dammit!"_

Mae abruptly fell silent. "What?"

Bea looked down, muttering. "You heard what I said."

Even in the dim light, Mae was still able to see a teal blush crawling up her face.

The sudden confession left her speechless. She never really knew how she could react to if her best friend really liked her back—she never expected it to ever be a thing.

"Yeah," Bea continued on, "I love you. I don't know how long it took for me to realise, but I think I have for the longest time. When you came up to me with that stupid offer to have us help each other find 'the one,' I just thought it would be like everything else I wanted. This whole time I was so busy trying to look for something way out of my reach that I didn't just stop to consider that maybe what I needed was next to me for all of it. I think it says a lot that I still keep my half of the friendship bracelets in my desk drawer."

The cat looked awestruck, looking in almost disbelief. "You kept it too?"

"God, haha. . . . Yeah. So it really wasn't just me."

Silence fell upon the two of them again. Everything going on was so much to digest; it just now occurred to them how much this meant. There was only the sound of the wind for a minute, before Mae broke the silence.

". . . I love you too."

Hesitantly, she placed her hand closer to Bea's. Bea winced, pulling her hand back and started rubbing her arm. Mae shrank back apologetically, avoiding any eye contact. Of course. Overstepping it again, Mae Borowski. Messing it up again Mae Borowski—

Everything that had been on her mind at this point was all interrupted when Bea suddenly cupped her hands on her cheeks and kissed her. It had caught her off guard at first, but soon she relaxed and let herself fall into it. She was careful not to make the same mistake as she did with Cole, and before long they had already pulled apart—which only left Mae longing for more.

"Beabea?" Mae whispered, her lips still a few inches apart from the other's.

"What is it, Mae?"

"Can you promise me one thing?" She looked her in the eye, her scarlet "nightmare eyes" looking less threatening than ever.

"I'll try."

Mae picked up and held Bea's hands in her own. "Promise me we won't leave each other again."

With a subdued smile, Bea nodded slowly. "Even after this goddamn town is finished trapping us together—after all we've been through—I'm never gonna leave you, Maeday."

Mae gave a pleasant laugh, and from there she closed that small gap between them as she went for another kiss.

It gave Mae a feeling of reassurance to know that she wasn't so alone. Tonight had been such a mess that the events were already getting lost on her, but knowing at least someone was there to offer a silver lining gave her comfort. In the end, as she rested her head against Bea's shoulder and looked out over the lights again, she really got the rare feeling that maybe things _would_ work out.

In their twelve years of knowing each other, she had never really given thought about what the future would have been like between them. Admittedly, things had gotten bleak as they drifted into and out of their friendship, but not once did either of them imagine that maybe—just maybe—that future would be spent together. Proximity was a strange phenomenon.

Mae yawned, shutting her eyes for a while. It must have been late by now—they had been here for a pretty long time. She must have lost track of it with everything that's happened. Evidently, she wasn't the only one who noticed that.

"You want to go home?" Bea asked, gently running her hand through the fur on Mae's head. She swore the purring noise she made as completely involuntary.

"Yeah, sure." She hopped off the bench and took her girlfriend by the hand (it felt strange but good that she could call her that now). Together, they walked back to the car.

As they reached the car, she couldn't really help but blurt the question out:  
"Can I spend the night at your place?"

The crocodile laughed as the two got in. She sat on the driver's seat for a minute, thinking. ". . . Sure."

The car ride home was, at least to Mae, a lot less apprehensive than the one coming here. Of course it was, though—Possum Springs will always have that air of familiarity that always kept her bound to reality. She knew that leaving in the future would be difficult without a sense of belonging.

But Bea was home enough, wasn't she?


End file.
